Closing My Practice

 The email said she would like to schedule an appointment for counseling with me.

She really loves my approach. She wants to work on relationship issues.

I made the decision to stop seeing clients the end of April which is five months away.

Why is it so hard for me to reply to this person? To tell her I can't see her.

On one hand it feels like I'll be rejecting her. 

On the other hand it feels like I'll be shutting myself down.

And maybe that's what it is.

For so long I've been answering emails and phone calls to schedule old and new clients.

There were periods of time where a fair number of requests poured in.

And there were times where it was pretty thin.

Here it is again one more request. 

But now it feels like I will be shutting the door and locking it if I tell her I can't see her.

The image of turning the key, locking the door, closing shop lands in my gut.

There is a sinking, finalized and empty sensation in the middle of my abdomen.

It is a grief, a sadness of leaving behind memories and experiences, that took place in an office behind a closed door for 40 years.

Many of those experiences were intimate and transformational.

Some were ugly, disheartening and painful.

I was ethical, enthusiastic and committed to make a difference in the lives of people.

I was also a bit arrogant, judgmental and full of myself at times.

I tried.

I always wanted to do the right thing.

I met so many people along the way.

In the earlier part of my career, I was fortunate to work for different agencies that employed people that impacted me in a tender and heartfelt way.

They were other therapists, support staff and administrators.

I wish I was better at keeping in touch.

I believe I was a pretty good team member.

I valued being dedicated and loyal to the organization where I worked at.

Later on in my private practice I always had a hard time raising my fee.

I valued the closeness I shared with my clients.

I felt a connection with them that was special.

I appreciated their mannerisms.

I enjoyed their particular styles in clothes, how they wore their hair, the way they talked, what kind of running shoes they had on.

I especially paid attention to what their eyes were telling me.

I was always excited to greet them in the waiting room.

On their way out after the session was over, I always felt like a gracious host escorting them out of my home.

For the most part I really loved my clients. 

Even the ones that gave me a lot of crap.

Yes there were people I agreed to work with who I just couldn't understand and didn't like.

That is one regret I have. But we eventually figured it out.

The biggest annoyances for me being a therapist was dealing with insurance, HIPPA guidelines, new technology and renewing my license. What a pain in the ass.

But they are distant memories now.

The past nine months have been unbelievably surreal for me. 

It's like I've been living in the twilight zone.

The pandemic has caused me to see clients through tele-health.

I don't get to greet each person in the office waiting room (as opposed to the virtual one) where I can offer tea, water, or coffee. Maybe even shake hands.

I don't get the real time nuances on the screen that I would get in person like someone rolling their eyes, a sarcastic snicker, or someone taking the hand of their partner.

There are clients who I have never seen in a standing up position.

I see people in their bedrooms, dining rooms, hallways, kitchens. 

I have seen what kind of light fixtures they have on their ceilings.

Clients have adjusted their ipads and laptops during the session so they can center me on their screen. When that happens I feel like I'm on a boat that is about to capsize.

Their pets have joined us for sessions. 

I have studied their art work and have tried to figure out what color their walls are painted.

This is how I will be ending.

From a virtual practice.

On the one hand it is fitting. On the other it is sad.

Not leaving the office for the last time after the last session feels incomplete to me. 

It feels impersonal and alone after an intensely relational and intimate journey all this time.

Today I will reply to the email and tell this person I am not scheduling anyone that is new. 

I will need to tell the clients who I have been seeing that I will close my practice in five months. 

To some who I haven't seen in a while I will write them letters.

I anticipate hard core guilt when I tell the clients in session I am ending my practice because it will feel like I am abandoning them in a vulnerable place.

I hope through our work together that they have developed the skills to transition to another therapist. 

In late April I can envision myself in the last online session. It will be with the Wednesday night men's group that has been meeting for several years. We started out as a relationship support group for men and has evolved into a group for men to grow emotionally, socially, behaviorally, and to some extent spiritually. For the past nine months it has been a sacred space for these men to come together through Zoom, and deal with the effects that the pandemic has had on their relationships with their partners, families, their work, and how life has dramatically turned upside down. 

I have witnessed how the trust and connection has grown and developed for these men. My heart has been touched by this group. 

My hope is that we will have a graceful ending.

And then I will select "end session," on the screen.